Pink, Flowery Angst II
by Greenfrie
Summary: Four of the villagers release their true feelings and act all emo and whatnot. [Four oneshots, pseudo angst]
1. The Grim Reaper

**Pink, Flowery Angst II**

**A Collection of Emo One-shots**

**The Grim Reaper**

Jack was welcomed with open arms into the small, rural community. He may have been from the city, but he soon fit in with everyone else. He tolerated the constant pestering from the small children. He chatted with the townspeople at the bar. He beat up the townspeople at the bar. He said he "like, totally loved" everyone at the bar.

Jack was quite fond of the bar. But no one knew why at first. Perhaps it was because the hot waitress was often too drunk to notice he hadn't bathed in weeks (in his defense, his farm had no bathroom), giving him a slight chance of getting a girlfriend.

Unfortunately, things weren't that simple.

Everyone had attributed his grandfather's death to old age, illness, or a leprechaun attack. But then Ellen, the elderly baker, had dropped dead just from talking to Jack. And then Rick was crushed under his latest invention, a blue feather counterfeiting machine. And Stu fell out of a hot air balloon.

He had the luck of the Grim Reaper.

But before he could angst, he suffered extreme denial. He tried searching his memories for one single lucky moment in his life. Nothing. Even in a parallel universe he was unfortunate, harassed constantly by some demon in a hat.

The farmer dashed out of his small hut. He repeatedly told himself, "It can't be true."

"Hi, Jack," greeted Harris, the local mailman. "Nice weath-uck!"

The older man grabbed his neck as if he was choking on something before falling into the dirt. Jack gasped. Good God, it's not even making sense anymore. His life had become a mere toy of an angst-obsessed maniac, it seemed.

He decided to be rational and shout, "EVERYTHING I TOUCH DIES!"

The sound waves struck the Harvest Sprites, blasting their weak bodies into the air.

_

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Comments: _

_Rule of Angst Number One: Anyone who can die will._

_And no, there is no real continuity between any of these one-shots. I'm just **very** amused at the thought of someone falling out of a hot air balloon.

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	2. Loneliness in a Fisherman's Soul

**Pink, Flowery Angst II**

**A Collection of Emo One-shots**

**Loneliness in a Fisherman's Soul**

He sighed. Sitting in the same spot for fifty years was no life. He'd been born the child of a crazed fisherman, always obsessing over his hobby. An obsession he would unfortunately inherit.

The fisherman had spent his entire existence at the ponds of Moon Mountain. Wildlife frolicked happily. Bugs existed for the sole purpose of giving jerks something to show to the local girls and have them panic. Yet their lives were still more productive than his.

He never attended any festivals, weddings, or funerals. The townspeople had known him as well as he knew himself—as a one dimensional being whose only contribution was handing out fishing rods to random people. How could he ever rid himself of that reputation?

He imagined festival scenarios over and over in his head.

"_Wow, the Sowing Festival balloon sure looks expensive. Who wants a fishing rod?"_

_With that question, he swung the pole, bursting the balloon with its deadly hook._

_---_

"_He looks so peaceful…"_

_After saying that, he decides to sneak a fishing pole into the coffin of the deceased man. Everyone watches in horror as it jabs into the body._

_---_

"_Do you, Jack, take Ka…Oh my GODDESS!"_

_Out of instinct, the fisherman attempted to cast, shattering the beloved and beautifully carved statue of the goddess into thousands of pieces._

_---_

And even giving out fishing rods was pathetic. Really! Jack wouldn't need to fish in order to get food. Jack had a cow and several chickens, not to mention a ton of plants. Hell, if the florist sold grain he could open a friggin' fast food restaurant in the back of the farm. And if he wanted something _fun_ to do, he could just steal booze from Karen's basement!

But the fisherman was growing determined. He would grow a spine and do the impossible. He would go into the village and meet with all the townspeople.

When he entered the village, all the houses seemed deserted. He was used to being alone, but didn't expect it. Did everyone move on or die when he'd been distracted by his sport?

Thankfully, he had wandered into the Town Square and noticed that the Horse Race stands had been set up. The mayor just assumed that it was someone from a neighboring town—there was no way a person as dull as the fisherman would visit an exciting race, right?

He stood next to Ann, who looked as if she would be content for the rest of her life just by seeing all these horses.

"So…" he started, struggling to make conversation, "this sure is a normal thing, right? A festival people normally go to, right?"

"Um…yes?" Ann answered, confused. "But this year's different. Grey's racing again for the first time since the accident."

"Really?" the fisherman questioned. "You can get into accidents like this? Wow, you idiots! Fishing is safer _and_ better than your stupid… I mean, wow, what a miracle. Such fighting spirit."

The redhead had inched away before he'd finished speaking, and had hidden in the sea of villagers and visitors. He sighed in defeat.

But there were kids from other towns there. A blank slate. They didn't know him as an odd, misanthropic fisherman, but rather as some weird old guy. And that was somewhat better.

"So, come here often?"

Having been detached from society for so long, he didn't know that they would interpret that as an old pedophile hitting on them. Oh, how naïve he was.

After running away from their parents, a task that required several overturned concession stands and a quick slap with the wooden fishing pole, the fisherman had found refuge on the other side of the wall. He gazed over it to watch the races.

Once the panic had died down, he jumped back into the regular horse race area to watch the final event of the day. Grey and Jack, the two local farmers, were competing head-to-head.

The fisherman was glad that he'd found something else that amused him besides fishing. Maybe he could have a normal life after all. After all, with his healthy diet of fish and herbs, he could live a lot longer. Maybe he wasn't a lost cause after all.

But he felt an urge. Before he could recognize what it was, he had his fishing rod in hand. He was horrified.

"No… not now!" he pleaded. "For the love of the Harvest Goddess… not… now…"

He cast anyway, into the race. The hook gripped Grey's pants, pulling him straight off his horse. His flailing and thrashing released him, but sent him into the race wall. With a sickening crash, the carnage of his last accident had been doubled.

He sighed. Maybe sitting in the same spot for fifty years at a time was what he was destined to do.

_

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Comments:_

_Rule of Angst Number two: There is no character too obscure to write an angst-filled story about._

_I love this one. Darn NPCs think they're so cool. I'll put them back in their place, lousy bums…

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	3. Lament of a Harvest Sprite

**Pink, Flowery Angst II**

**A Collection of Emo One-shots**

**Lament of a Harvest Sprite**

"O-day ou-yay ow-knay ow-hay uch-may I uffer-say?"

The gnome gazed sadly at the cavern floor. He slid on his tiny red coat and pointy hat, just like he did every morning. His microscopic, elfish body was as weak as his spirit.

"Amn-day is-thay illage-vay!"

He was pissed. Why was the village constantly denying the existence of him and his brothers? They thought he was spawned by the high alcohol content of the bar's products. Hah! How could fools such as them imagine beings as magnificent as the Harvest Sprites? They were inferior beings to the divine sprites!

This sprite knew his place in the world was more important than that of humanity. He had to alert his brothers and sisters of their goal. The Harvest Sprite Rebellion of '06 was about to begin.

He easily slipped through the crack of the cave wall, only to find Jack crouching down to pick a mushroom. The farmer didn't check if it was poisonous before tossing it into his rucksack. The buyer would take it without checking and poison all the shipments it came in contact with, making humanity extinct in a matter of months should the pattern continue.

How dare Jack endanger their future slaves?

But this wasn't the sprite's only vendetta against Jack. No, there was more bad blood between the two.

"En-whay I-ay am-ay ing-kay, ou-yay ill-way e-bay irst-fay against-ay e-thay all-way."

---

"_Ask-ay er-hay…" the sprite attempted to comfort himself. "On't-day un-ray…"_

_He saw Karen leaving the bar in the early morning, around four. He could barely see her, as the bar was the only building emitting any light. Nervously, the Harvest Sprite waddled over to her and extended a few Moondrop followers he had found in the mountains._

_But she couldn't see him. And before the gnome could attract attention to himself, he saw Jack pull a blue feather from his pocket. Karen's face wasn't visible, but he could see her hand take it from Jack._

_Jack…the astard-bay._

_---_

The gnome jumped at the farmer's leg without warning, sinking his infernal fangs into his flesh. Before Jack could release a "What the hell is that?" he was mobbed by additional creatures, eventually leading to his demise.

The Harvest Sprites all shared the misery of their leader. Together, with their mystical powers (consisting of Pig-Latin skills and breathing out small amounts of fire—enough to mildly irritate people) and sharp teeth, they could achieve their goal.

"O-nay one-ay ill-way and-stay in-ay our-ay ay-way!" he roared, breaking out of the cave and into the fields. "O-nay one-ay!"

Flowerbud Village had denied them too long. The elf-like beings were enraged, and there was no way they'd let them get away. None of the humans could stand up to them.

And that is why the citizens of Flowerbud are now ashamed to reveal their home, which is mockingly referred to by the outside world as "The place ruled by those weird-ass gnomes."

_

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Comments:_

_Rule of Angst Number Three: Never doubt the second rule._

_Harvest Sprite angst. What in God's name is wrong with me? No matter. Fight the power (Ight-fay e-thay ower-pay!) And no, I won't translate for the Sprites. Learn Pig Latin. Hate those Mineral Town sprites. "Buddum?" You must be joking.

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	4. Shipper's Rant

**Pink, Flowery Angst II**

**A Collection of Emo One-shots**

**The Shipper's Rant**

It was six o'clock, the time when the daylight dimmed into the night, but Zack was already furious. The crate was _empty_. Jack had violated their divine covenant, stating he would provide crops for Zack's business in exchange for gold.

Perhaps it wasn't a divine covenant, or contract, or even a "dude, this is totally a cool idea" followed by an "okay, dude, awesome." Maybe Zack just started taking things from the farm and leaving money. But his fury didn't die down.

"Bastard!" he shouted, slamming a muscular arm down on the wooden storage area. "What do you mean no crops today? Come on, people, quit slacking off and do some work for once in your lives!"

Despite the fact that no one was around to witness his ravings, he continued as if everyone could hear and be enlightened. "Am I the only person with a normal job here? Those pink haired psychos toss some seeds in a greenhouse and call it work, Gotz is making wine for himself, not a career, and—oh yes—the bloody gnomes are more productive than the bakers! There, I said it!"

His roar echoed throughout the farm, but no one noticed him. Naturally. They'd never really listened to him before.

Zack kicked over the bin in fury, and then continued to deliver progressively stronger kicks into it for a good two hours. It may not get rid of his inner rage, but at least it made everyone aware of it.

He gazed down at the battered and broken box, with all the rotten vegetables that Zack didn't collect weeks ago smashed into the ground. His breathing was heavy from the exertion, yet he didn't care how exhausted he was. That accursed Jack would learn from this. Laziness would not be tolerated.

With a final stomp from his boot, Zack was about to march off triumphantly to wherever he lived, before hearing a voice. It was muffled and tired, as if from someone who had his face buried in a pillow.

"Jesus, man, it's a festival day!"

"…Oh."

_

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Comments_

_Rule of Angst Number Four: Angst regardless of whether or not you have a point. If your character loves someone who has a girlfriend, the girlfriend is obviously Satan incarnated. Same goes for the one token rival character: no matter what they do, they're evil.

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And that's it! Thanks for sitting through this set of short tales of emo people in farming sim games! And don't forget to review, guys.


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